


What Brown Can Do For You

by sarken



Category: Real News RPF
Genre: F/F, FNFF OT, Femslash, First Meetings, Real Life Significant Others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-09
Updated: 2011-04-09
Packaged: 2017-10-17 21:12:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarken/pseuds/sarken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel delivers a package.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Brown Can Do For You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anais_rhys](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=anais_rhys).



> Anais_rhys asked for prompt 017, brown.

The cardboard box isn't heavy, but it's awkward to carry, and Rachel shifts it onto her hip before ringing the doorbell. This is her last delivery of the day, and the door can't open soon enough. Her back aches, her feet are killing her, and she is absolutely certain she smells like sweat. The union benefits are the only thing making this better than her landscaping gig.

She hears the deadbolt turn and glances at her clipboard, double checking the recipient's name. _Susan Mikula_ , it says, and Rachel looks back up, a smile and a cheerful greeting at the ready, but the breath goes out of her the moment she lays eyes on the beautiful blonde standing in the doorway.

"Uh," Rachel says. She is pretty sure there are fireworks in her eyes and little cartoon hearts floating around her head. When the woman smiles, Rachel's legs go weak. She suspects Destiny just kicked her in the back of the knees.

Rachel licks her lips and tries again. "Please tell me you're Susan Mikula."

"I am." The woman's smile brightens, and her eyes are on Rachel, not the package, when she says, "Is that for me?"

The question knocks some sense into Rachel, and she finds herself momentarily glad for the heat, the effects of which hide the blush she can feel creeping up her neck as she shifts the box around. Susan's hand brushes against hers as she takes the package, and Rachel considers it a personal victory that she neither sighs, moans, whimpers, nor squeaks in response. Her voice even sounds normal when she holds out the clipboard and says, "I just need your signature."

"Just my signature?" Susan raises an eyebrow as she picks up the pen. She scrawls her name across the bottom line, hesitates, and then touches the ballpoint back to the form. "I'm going to put my phone number down, too. That way, you can...call if you need anything."

Rachel makes it back to the truck without her feet touching the ground.


End file.
